


Pour Some Sugar on Me

by littlecakes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Restaurant, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Humor, Illustrated, Multi, Slice of Life, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-08-25 04:31:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/pseuds/littlecakes
Summary: Prompto thinks getting a job at Regis Caelum's two-star Michelin restaurant, Insomnia, is a dream come true. It is for a guy who's trying to make it as a server. Famous restaurants mean big tips and lots of hours. That is, until he gets there and discovers that not only is the kitchen a nightmare, but the man behind the insanely delicious desserts is the same guy he's been head-over-heels for for years, and his best friend's older step-brother to boot. Prompto's about to find out if he can survive the heat or if he just should've stayed out of the kitchen in the first place.A collaboration withjilldrawblog, who is doing the fabulous illustrations!!





	1. Chapter 1

“Dude.”

“What?”

“You can’t  _ not _ take this job,” Noctis said. Prompto could hear the crinkle of a potato chip bag in the background, followed by the crunch of the fried food between his best friend’s teeth. Noct chewed thoughtfully as a heavy silence echoed through the phone.

Prompto sighed as he leaned against the dirty brick wall. He was taking his fifteen behind the shitty italian place he’d been working at for a few months. He really wanted it to work out- this place had  _ amazing _ fettuccine and he could get it for  _ free _ \- but the management was awful. Seriously, seriously awful.

“And why not?” Prompto scoffed. “Who says I’m not having the time of my life at Dino’s?”

“Dude,” Noctis laughed. “That place isn’t gonna last another week. You wait and see.”

“Whatever,” Prompto muttered. He popped another hard candy in his mouth as he sat on an old wooden crate. The smell of nicotine and tar clung to the humid air, filling the alleyway with its enticing stench. Prompto had quit smoking three weeks ago- it made his fingernails a sickly yellow he couldn’t wash away- but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss it. The fact that the whole staff at Dino’s smoked made it even worse. Prompto groaned, rose from his crate, and paced the length of the alley anxiously.

“Dad’s looking for a new head waiter,” Noctis said suggestively. “Was asking about you.”

Prompto laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, right. Insomnia’s way out of my league.”

“You handled your job at Coctura’s just fine,” Noctis said, his mouth full of potato chips. Prompto’s stomach growled with envy. “And that was a Michelin star place.”

Noctis did have a point. Prompto wasn’t a bad waiter- rather, he was a damn good one- but Regis’ restaurant was more than intimidating. It had been standing for thirty years and ruled by the iron fist of Cor Leonis, who was possibly New York’s best chef. Back in high school, when Prompto was just a stupid kid- who ever said 20-year-olds weren’t stupid kids too, anyway?- he’d  _ dreamed  _ of working at Insomnia. After years in the industry, though, he’d learned far too quickly how big-name restaurants like Insomnia were cutthroat and crazy.

“But Insomnia’s  _ legendary _ ,” Prompto whined.

“But you’re my best friend,” Noctis mocked.

Prompto sighed. “I’m just not gonna win, am I?”

“Since when have I ever let you?” Noctis laughed.

“Ass.”

“Argentum! These tables ain’t gonna wipe themselves down!” Dino yelled out the back door, throwing a clean rag in Prompto’s face.

“He’s got a stick up his ass,” Noctis muttered.

Prompto scoffed. “He’s got a whole fucking tree growing up there, dude.”

Noctis laughed. “See you tonight.”

“If I live.”

______________________________________________________________________

  
  


Noctis was right. Dino’s didn’t even make it until the end of the month before the guy lost his mind; after another bad review on the sogginess of his pizza crust, the last of his composure crumbled and so did the front window after a classic, stainless steel napkin dispenser went flying through it. Prompto left that day with a to-go container of alfredo and his check in cash- even Dino knew that his restaurant was gone. 

It was because of this that Prompto found himself at the wide, glass table sitting in the center of the Caelums’ dining room. He did need to pay rent. That was a driving force behind his decision to talk to Noct’s dad, besides the worm that had seemed to wriggle into his ear after the conversation he’d had with his best friend. As much as Prompto was loathe to admit it, Noctis was right. Prompto  _ was _ so much more capable than places like Dino’s, or maybe even Coctura’s, if he let his skill go to his head for a minute.

He should try, at least. That’s what muttered quietly under his breath as Noctis returned with a few beers between his fingers and a broad smile on his face.

“You know you’ve already got the job, right?” Noctis said, as he twisted the cap off of a beer and handed it to Prompto. “Dad just likes to flex his restaurateur muscles.”

Prompto nodded, but the knot that had seemed to tie itself in his throat wasn’t letting him say much. He sipped at the blonde ale that Noctis had given him as he waited anxiously. Noctis was going on about some metal show he’d been to the night before- how Noctis tolerated that noise Prompto couldn’t figure out- while he nodded complacently.

“Dinner’s served.  _ Someone  _ decided that a mango salsa was just too much for this fish,” Clarus announced as he walked in with two plates in hand.

“You  _ cannot _ put a mango salsa on whitefish that’s prepared this way, darling,” Regis retorted. “Just overpowers absolutely everything!”

“There’s a reason why he only lets me pour wine,” Clarus said, waggling his eyebrows at Prompto as he set a plate in front of him.

“Because you have zero skill in the kitchen,” Regis laughed, pulling a chair for his partner before taking a seat himself.

Prompto laughed weakly and downed the rest of his beer while Noctis rolled his eyes at his father. The fish before him smelled heavenly; Regis, of course, was no doubt the most talented chef Prompto had ever met. Its delicate white flesh sat atop a beautiful bed of microgreens. Prompto could smell the delicate threads of saffron that crowned it and the hint of lemon that surely saturated the fish in the most delightful way. His mouth watered as he looked down at his plate, but his stomach groaned obstinately with the anxiety that had settled deep within it.

“Prompto,” Regis said, drawing the blonde back to reality.

“Yes, sir?”

“If you call me sir again I’m going to have to call  _ you _ sir. No one calls me sir,” Regis laughed.

“Right…” Prompto said, chuckling weakly.

“So you want to join us at Insomnia?” Regis asked, taking a bite. “Clarus, good call on the saffron.”

“Thanks, babe,” Clarus said, leaning over to kiss Regis’ cheek.

“Uh, yeah, if you’ll have me. Noct said you were looking for a new waiter,” Prompto said before tasting the fish for himself and discovering that Clarus absolutely had made a good choice with the saffron.

Clarus and Regis glanced toward each other, sharing a knowing look. Clarus merely raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips before returning his newly-focused attention to his dinner. Regis took his time sipping a glass of chardonnay before replying.

“Insomnia is a… high-energy restaurant,” Regis said. “Cor can be a challenge.”

“My last manager liked to throw dishes,” Prompto said. Noctis giggled impishly. “Does Cor throw dishes?”

Clarus snorted. “Not dishes. Perhaps words that will scald your soul, but not dishes.”

Prompto shrugged. “I can deal with that.”

Regis sat back in his chair and crossed his arms with a sigh.

“Prompto’s really good, dad,” Noctis said hopefully.

“I know, I know,” Regis said with a warm smile directed at his son. “You have good taste in company, Noctis. I have no doubt in you, or your recommendation.”

“So do it! Hire Prompto,” Noctis said as he scraped his microgreens to the side of his plate, leaving the filet of fish sitting far away from it.

“Noct!” Prompto hissed, kicking Noctis under the table.

“Ow,” Noctis whined.

Clarus chuckled. “They fight like an old married couple.”

“We would know, huh?” Regis said, giving Clarus a mischievous look.

“Gross,” Noctis whined, slumping in his chair. He’d propped his ankle up on its edge to massage his shinbone.

“Well, Prompto? Would you like to work for us?” Regis said, draping an arm casually over Clarus’ chair.

Prompto nodded. “Yes, sir. Er. Regis. Mr. Caelum?”

“Regis is fine,” he replied. “You’ll start Monday night.”

  
  


______________________________________________________________________

  
  


It was late that evening when Gladio finally made it home. To say it was a rough night at the restaurant would be an understatement- with no head waiter, Iris was forced to step away from the hostess stand and wait tables, meaning that the entire staff was picking up the pieces while the entire front-of-house struggled with the loss. It stressed out the kitchen, stressed out  _ Cor _ , and that was more than any one of them could deal with for much longer.

Gladio swore quietly under his breath as he stubbed his toe on a box.

“Noct! What is this shit?” he growled.

Noctis called from the other room, his voice garbled by the heavy bass thudding in the thin wall separating his bedroom from the living room.

“Get your scrawny ass in here, man,” Gladio growled as he kicked the box out of the way and closed the front door behind him.

“Hm?” Noctis said, poking his head out his bedroom door. “Oh. I forgot about that, sorry.”

“What  _ is this _ , dude,” Gladio frowned as he untied his bandana from his head and hung his matching apron on the hook by the door. “You finally buying some weights so you can turn those toothpicks you call arms into drinkin’ straws?”

“Fuck you,” Noctis laughed. “It’s shit for the shelter. They needed more food and funds ran short.”

Gladio shook his head. Noctis had been spending his free time at the animal shelter down the street. He’d begged Gladio for a dog, a cat, a fucking  _ fish _ , anything that was alive and would depend on him for sustenance and love, but Gladio had to put his foot down. He was allergic to pretty much anything with fur, not to mention the shit fit Ignis or Cor would have if they found even one stray hair in their kitchen.

Better safe than sorry, Gladio thought.

Either way, it drove Noctis to find animal companionship elsewhere. It had only been a few months7 since Noctis had moved out of their parents’ place and in with Gladio but the younger man had already grown far too comfortable with his newfound freedom.

“How are you gonna help with rent if you’re spending all your tips on dog food?” Gladio mused as he watched Noctis struggle to push the box into his bedroom. His socked feet slid across the hardwood floor and his thin arms flexed with effort.

“Ugh- I’m gonna- gonna ask Dad for help,” Noctis groaned.

Gladio snorted. “You’ll have better luck with Clarus,” he said pointedly.

“Clarus said he wouldn’t help me again, not after last month,” Noctis said, flashing a grin over his shoulder.

“ _ Noct _ . You said  _ you _ paid your share of the rent last month!” Gladio groaned, covering his face.

“I really needed a new subwoofer,” Noctis said, wiping sweat from his brow. The box had made it halfway across the living room. “Clarus said it wasn’t a big deal.”

“S’cute that our dads are still taking care of you,” Gladio teased. “You must miss them  _ so much. _ ”

Noctis flipped him off as he flopped on the couch and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Gladio rolled his eyes before making his way to the kitchen and pulling a frozen pizza out of the freezer. Sure, they worked at a Michelin-star restaurant, but that didn’t extend to their kitchen at home. Noctis’ dishwashing skills weren’t gonna help cook, and Gladio may be a patissier, but that in no way made him capable of cooking anything else.

Frozen pizzas tasted good enough anyway, especially after a long day in front of an oven. Gladio cranked up the heat before tossing the pizza straight onto the baking rack and rooted through the fridge for a beer. “Want one?” he called.

“Sure,” Noctis answered. “Thanks.”

Gladio popped them both open on a kitchen drawer before sitting down next to Noctis on their plaid, threadbare sofa. Noct’s body bounced up off his cushion as Gladio dropped onto the plush couch. Beer sloughed down his front and Gladio cackled. “God, you’re such a klutz.”

“Your fault!” Noctis hissed. “Ugh.”

“How was dinner with the dads?” Gladio asked, sipping his beer. “Did Clarus make that weird mango fish?”

“He tried to. Dad was not about it,” Noct laughed. “Prompto came, too.”

“Are you still trying to get that poor sap to work at Insomnia?” Gladio asked skeptically. “Poor dude’s been through enough. Don’t subject him to the hellstorm that is Cor and Ignis right now.”

“Too late,” Noctis said with a grin. “He starts Monday.”

Gladio sighed as he dragged his hand down his face. His finger dipped into the divets of scar tissue that crossed his forehead and traced over his right eye. The clash of metal, the screech of tires, the smell of burning gasoline flashed in his mind as he touched his face. His hand pinched the bridge of his nose briefly before dropping back into his lap.

“You warned him, right?”

Noctis shrugged.

“Then Reggie must have.”

“He didn’t really warn him, either.”

“ _ Fuckin’ a, _ ” Gladio swore. “You guys really are pieces of work.”

“Prom will be  _ fine _ ,” Noctis reassured as he drained his beer. “He practically ran the dining room at Coctura’s.”

“But… whatever. Don’t stop me when I say ‘I told you so’ after the poor guy runs for the hills,” Gladio sighed.

The quiet well of anger bubbling in Gladio’s belly was doing him no favors in trying to keep a straight face. His brother’s blatant disregard for his friend’s well-being was incredibly frustrating, but Noct’s cavalier attitude about anyone’s well-being but his own seemed pretty standard these days. Gladio tossed his empty in the recycling bin before grabbing the pizza from the oven.

Unlike the rest of their apartment- no thanks to Noct- Gladio’s room was sparkling clean. He preferred to keep it that way. After a long day in the kitchen, there wasn’t anything better than closing the door behind him and stretching out on his well-made bed to read a book and pass out. He’d intended to do this tonight, too; with his favorite, worn-out copy of  _ Stardust _ under his arm, he was planning to retreat into the little world between the pages and bliss out.

Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking. His mind just wouldn’t shut up. Both his dads  _ and _ Noctis were leading Prompto into their hellish kitchen like a lamb to fucking slaughter. Gladio wouldn’t normally make such a grim comparison, but with the loss of both their manager, thanks to Reggie’s retirement and unwillingness to admit he needed a replacement,  _ and _ their head waiter? Insomnia was like a battleground right now.

Gladio pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled idly through his contacts.  _ Prompto _ . His contact card hovered underneath Gladio’s thumb. He should call him. Warn him of the hell that he was getting himself unknowingly thrust into.

But wouldn’t that be weird? The only reason Gladio had Prompto’s number was because of all the times Noct would forget his phone or let the battery run dry. Gladio had always been in charge of picking his senseless little brother up, or take him places, and Prompto was always part of the package deal.

Calling him now though, late at night, for no rhyme or reason just felt wrong, even if his intentions were good. Gladio grumbled under his breath before shoving his phone under his pillow and picked up his book. The chewy crust of his hot, from-the-box pizza singed his tongue and he swore under his breath after chewing and swallowing as fast as he could. Maybe he deserved it. It wasn’t like he was helping the situation at all.

Like a lamb to fucking slaughter.

 

________________________________________________________

  
  


If there was one thing Prompto was grateful for beyond the opportunity to work at another Michelin-star restaurant, it was Insomnia’s uniform. He’d worked at so many restaurants over the course of his life and had worn his fair share of mandatory clothes that he’d seen it all. Tiny aprons with no pockets, shirts with the shoulders so tight he’d busted seams, even shorts (never again, he told himself, would he work in a place that mandated shorts no matter  _ how _ good the tips were). Each was a hellish nightmare he always wished to forget.

No, Insomnia’s uniform was  _ beautiful _ . Soft cotton that was black as night made the shirt, which had an open neckline with a band collar, extremely comfortable, not to mention stylish. Tiny gold buttons lined the front. There was only one pocket on the chest, which was deep enough for a pen, and the top was lined in delicate, golden embroidery that read  _ Insomnia. _

Prompto smoothed the beautiful midnight fabric over his shoulders and chest- it even fit his swimmer’s shoulders, thank god- before unfolding the dark gold apron that Regis had dropped off with the shirt. The gold apron had deep pockets on the side, perfect for a few books and a notepad for taking orders. It had a long, black bow tied to one side. The whole ensemble was sleek, elegant, and it made Prompto  _ feel _ like he worked in a two-Michelin star restaurant even though he hadn’t even set foot inside the place yet.

His phone danced across the bathroom counter as it vibrated and Prompto was quick to snatch it up before it shook clear off the tiled surface and onto the linoleum floor. “Hello?” he asked quickly as he grabbed his wallet and made his way into his tiny studio apartment.

“Prom,” a deep voice grunted. Gladio. Prompto could feel his throat clamping up just at the sound of his voice. He stopped in his tracks as he grabbed an energy drink out of his fridge.

“Oh, h-hey… buddy,” Prompto said, his voice cracking slightly. Almost immediately, he wanted to kick himself. Hard. Maybe he  _ should have _ . Gladio just did that to him, though.

“....hi. I’m outside. Noct said to give you a ride in tonight,” Gladio said.

“He’s not picking me up,” Prompto asked.

“Said he was running late.”

“Probably fucking slept in again…”

“Yup.”

“I’ll be right down.”

The call ended and Prompto tucked the energy drink into his apron pocket before stepping into his bathroom one more time. His blonde hair was an awful mess, not that that was any different from usual, but with Gladio waiting outside, he didn’t want it to be any worse than the norm. He ran some water over his comb and tried his best to get the cowlick on the top of his head to sit flat with no luck.

Gladio was Noct’s older stepbrother. Not that they were really brothers- though Regis called Clarus his husband, they weren’t actually married- but they’d lived together upwards of twenty years and were so close they would make blood brothers look distant. Even though Gladio was Noct’s  _ older brother _ and clearly  _ off-fucking-limits _ , that didn’t make him any less beautiful.

Or appealing.

Or fucking sexy.

Prompto shook his head, swallowed down the knot in his larynx, and walked out to the beat-up, black SUV sitting across the street from his apartment. Gladio sat in the front seat and Prompto could barely see the top of his head through the window. The giant man probably had to lower the seat as much as possible just to make the old SUV bearable to even sit in. Still, distant amber eyes stared at his phone as his thumbs danced across its surface.

 

“Sorry, had to dig through my fridge for my last Redbull,” Prompto said as he slid into the front seat. Gladio barely looked at him before tossing his phone into the cupholder.

“Whatever,” he said, putting the SUV in gear and pulling away from the curb.

The two sat in silence as Gladio made his way through the cramped city. New York was  _ not _ a small scene by any means; it was a sprawling city and teeming with people. Prompto had only lived here since high school when he moved with his family and promptly met Noctis their freshman year of high school before getting his first job waiting tables at the local diner.

“So, uh, how’s it going?” Prompto asked nervously as he took out his energy drink and cracked it open.

Gladio glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Fine,” he said. After a moment, he added, “You ready for your first day?”

Prompto fiddled with the bow tied at his hip and shrugged. “Regis wasn’t exactly comforting,” he laughed nervously.

“He told you about Cor, right?”

“Yeah,” Prompto said. “But I’ve had worse execs in the kitchen.”

“Sure,” Gladio chuckled. “Sure you have.”

“What’s wrong with Cor?”

“Oh, it’s not really just Cor,” Gladio said. “But the situation made our last head waiter walk out in the middle of dinner.”

“That fucking sucks,” Prompto said, slurping down his drink.

“It does,” Gladio said, as he parked on the street just across from Insomnia. He clambered out of the driver’s side seat without a word and started walking toward the restaurant. Prompto sprinted after him and grabbed his sleeve. Gladio gave him a skeptical look and the blonde dropped it as if the soft, worn cotton had burned him.

“Gladio, wait,” Prompto sputtered.

“What?” The brunette grumbled.

“Do you have any advice?” Prompto asked meekly.

“Yeah,” Gladio laughed. “Keep your ass out of the fire in the kitchen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Oh,  _ you’ll see, _ ” Gladio said, as he turned his key in the lock of the front door and opened it. Prompto frowned before following him inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW thanks so much for the positive reception on the first chapter, guys!! We are so excited to share this AU with you and all of your comments, kudos, subscribes, and bookmarks really mean so much T_T hope you enjoy the second chapter!!

The dining room was scarcely lit when Gladio opened the front door. Sunlight filtered in through doorway, catching little motes of dust where they hung suspended in the air. Spinning and fluttering in the column of light, Gladio was captured by their dance. The simple beauty of them was nothing compared to the behemoth that stood in the middle of the dining room.

Gladio could barely remember when Insomnia had grown from a tiny hole-in-the-wall eatery to the famous restaurant it was today- he had been way too young- but he  _ could _ remember when they were renovating the dining room. Regis had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure the architect captured the  _ aesthetic,  _ whatever it was. Gladio still wasn’t sure, but as he looked at the massive column coming up in the middle of the dining room as a child, he knew it was badass.

It resembled a tree, almost. The column itself was paneled in espresso-stained wood that grew wider as it reached the ceiling. From there, the paneling split, revealing illuminated panels that cascaded elegantly from color to color in an endless array. Even now, the lights twinkled and shifted overhead.

Compared to it, the rest of the dining room was minimally decorated. Large murals, adorned with the famous Caelum skull, stretched along the lengths of the walls. The chairs and tables were stained to match the column in the center. It wasn’t a terribly large room, but with the high ceiling, shifting colors, and elegant bar, it definitely stood out as a premier restaurant.

“Wow,” Prompto said, peering up at the lights.

“You’ve never seen it?” Gladio asked skeptically. “Thought you’d been here before.”

“Not in the dining room,” Prompto said. “Noct and I liked to hang out in Regis’ office.”

“Of course,” Gladio snorted, rolling his eyes. “Well, there’s the bar,” he said, pointing to the corner of the room, where Clarus was polishing wine glasses, “and the kitchen’s back here,” he said. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

Prompto followed, hot on his heels, as Gladio made his way past dark shelves that were filled with bottles of wine. It was easy enough to see the dining room through them from the kitchen- surely Regis planned it that way- but it still created a rather enclosed space for guests.

“Nice,” Prompto said.

“Regis knew what he was doing,” Gladio grunted, as he walked down a short, darkened hallway and through two swinging doors.

The kitchen itself was cozy compared to the expansive dining room. Adorned in copper and flagstone, it looked like something out of an Italian cooking catalogue. Clarus never failed to give Regis grief about how he had created such a unique dining space with the most cliche kitchen. However, the restaurateur always replied with the same phrase that his partner couldn’t argue with.

“Simple and beautiful. How could you need more?”

In truth, he couldn’t. None of them could. The kitchen was quaint, spacious, and always moving. There never was a quiet moment, for which Gladio was grateful; a nonstop kitchen meant nonstop business, nonstop business meant job security, and job security meant money. Lots of it.

His own station was tucked down at the end of the line. He could remember how  _ excited  _ Regis was and how proud his own father had been at his graduation from culinary school. Someone who was technically, traditionally trained, in an age where everyone was self-taught in their own kitchen and didn’t know a fish knife from a cheese knife, was a godsend.

Gladio was that godsend. Or at least, he was  _ supposed  _ to be. When he told them his focus had been in the more delicate side of cooking and he didn’t want to work where he couldn’t be a patissier, the crestfallen look on his father’s face told him everything he needed to know. The endless arguments afterwards about his  _ wasted talent _ , the  _ restaurant’s needs _ , told him everything he never wanted to know.

Thankfully, Regis had been more easy going than his father. In fact, he was elated; a professionally trained patissier was hard to come by. He’d surprised Gladio with his own tiny corner of the man’s famous kitchen, complete with a bench topped with perfect French marble in a shade of onyx Gladio had never seen before and a professional, sparkling oven.

Though it was heaven, it couldn’t have been more bittersweet.

Gladio made his way over there, head down, ignoring the raucous conversation of the rest of the staff taking place near the front of the line. He needed his moment to review and center before facing the insanity that was the restaurant life. As he tied his hair up, he watched Prompto slide his slender, pale fingers over the black marble.

“This is beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pastry board like this before,” Prompto said, his violet eyes drawn to every speck and sparkle in its flawless surface.

Gladio grinned at him. “Yeah, she’s a beaut, huh? Gotta keep that pastry cold. Butter’s best when it’s frozen.”

“Huh. I never knew. You’re talking to the guy who eats gas station donuts,” Prompto said with a grin.

“Gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me,” Gladio said, narrowing his eyes with a skeptical smile.

Prompto shrugged.

“Is this my hero? In the flesh?” A blonde woman said as she practically bounced across the kitchen. Her sweet southern drawl already had Prompto weak in the knees, but as he took in her perfect curls and sparkling, hazel eyes, he knew between Gladio and this girl that he could never drop a tray or screw  _ anything _ up.

“Prompto!” Noctis called. He was lurking near the grill pit with a few other people. Everyone dressed nearly identically, save for who Prompto assumed was the executive chef. The man wore a scowl and a chef’s jacket, which was neatly folded open at the top. His blue eyes felt like they were staring straight through Prompto.

“Dude! You said you were gonna be late!” Prompto scoffed as he approached the group.

Noctis waggled his eyebrows at him. “Got a ride from Gladio, though, right?”

Prompto leaned over to give him a hug and whispered in his ear, “Shut the fuck up, dude!”

Noctis only laughed impishly as he leaned back against the countertop. “Okay. So this is Cor,” he said, pointing to Steely Blue Murder Eyes, “Ignis,” Noct added, gesturing to a man with ashy blonde hair and a can of Starbucks Doubleshot clutched firmly in his grip, “and Cindy.”

The blonde woman extended a hand to shake Prompto. “A pleasure to meetcha, Prompto,” she drawled. Prompto was vaguely aware of himself stuttering some kind of greeting while suffering the firm grip of her handshake.

“Prompto,” Ignis said with a smirk, “Nice to meet you.”

 

 

This kitchen was full of beautiful accents and equally beautiful people. Prompto was either going to have to thank his best friend later, or strangle him. Noctis was smirking at him- fucking shit, he  _ knew what he was doing _ , strangle it would have to be- before Cor cleared his throat.

“You’re the new waiter,” he grunted.

Prompto nodded eagerly before extending a hand, but Cor merely waved him off. “We’ll see how you do. The last one lasted… how long, Ignis?”

“A month,” Ignis said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “But Noctis speaks very highly of you, Prompto. I’m sure you’ll do a fine job.”

“Uh, thanks…” Prompto said, his ego thoroughly deflated by icy blue eyes and brusque words.

“Talk to Cindy. She’ll show you the ropes,” Noctis said, elbowing him again. “I  _ knew  _ it, I knew it,” he whispered under his breath.

“Yep. Gonna kill you,” Prompto sighed before leaving a cackling Noctis and some very confused chefs behind the line.

  
  
  


“Prompto,” Cindy said with a sigh as she strolled up next to him. He was busy acquainting himself with the rather confusing ticket machine at the bar station. Her luscious blonde curls were pulled into a rushed, loose bun at the nape of her neck, but a few stray locks teased at her cheeks. She brushed them away with a muttered swear before smiling at him rather desperately. “Have you gotten your food for table 12 or 14 yet?”

Prompto glanced around the dining room. It wasn’t too bad yet, though with Insomnia’s reputation and the late dinner rush, he knew that there would soon be a flux of people coming in that front door. It was only seven, and if he knew New York well- he certainly thought he did- then all the hungry people would start showing up around eight.

Then again, if he  _ did  _ know his city- and he really, really did- then he never truly knew what to expect of the people that inhabited it. There was no reason he couldn’t at least brace himself for the possibility of a big dinner rush. Better safe than sorry if he wanted to make a good impression on his first day. His mind jumped straight to the grumpy executive chef lurking in the kitchen and his harsh words.

The thought made the anxiety swell in his chest and Prompto fiddled with the ticket tablet once more before answering his coworker.

“No, Cindy, I haven’t. Is something up with the ticket machine?” Prompto said, picking up the little tablet and inspecting it quizzically.

Cindy groaned. “Goddammit. They’re probably at it again.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry about it, sug. It’s really okay.”

“Cor Leonis, you nonsensical  _ ass _ ,” someone yelled angrily in a delightful accent.

“If you’d just shut up and listen to me we wouldn’t have this fucking problem!” a surly voice hollered back.

“Oh my God, if Clarus hears them they are in for a  _ world _ of hurtin’,” Cindy sighed. “Cor, babe, calm down,” Cindy called as she rushed to the kitchen. Prompto glanced over his shoulder to Iris, who shook her head quickly and turned to greet patrons.

Gritting his teeth, Prompto followed Cindy into the kitchen.

Ignis and Cor were standing in their regular spots behind the line, facing each other. Cor held a massive cut of beef by the bone in his hand, which he gestured at Ignis with. Ignis, on the other hand, held a delicate, yet sharp, paring knife.

“If you braise that beef shank in that style you will absolutely  _ ruin _ the marbling,” Ignis argued.

“We don’t want marbling, it’s a fuckin’ roast, Scientia! It’s supposed to melt in your goddamn mouth,” Cor growled.

“But you’re not serving it with anything but potatoes, if you’re going to make the meat the centerpiece then at least let the poor thing  _ shine _ , don’t cook it into oblivion!”

“Remind me, Ignis, who wrote the menu?” Cor snapped.

“You did.”

“Who’s the executive chef!?”

“ _ You are. _ ”

“So obey your goddamned superior for once and braise the beef the way I say. The customers don’t want to hear the beef moo when you serve it.”

“I don’t give a damn, you’re doing it wrong.”

Cor growled.

“Boys, please-” Cindy began.

“I won’t have some rookie telling me how to cook food I’ve been preparing for years!” Cor yelled, slapping the massive piece of meat down on the line, sending a splatter of raw juices Cindy’s way. Before she could even flinch, the entire front of her uniform was painted red.

“Oh, shit,” Cindy whined, looking down at the front of her stained uniform. Though the lights in the dining room were low and the shirts were black, a splotch of raw meat juices was clear across her front, and if people couldn’t see it, they could certainly smell it. Cindy looked absolutely crestfallen as she tented the splattered, wet cloth away from her body.

“Cindy-” Ignis began, holding a towel over the counter.

“You’ve done enough!” Cor grumbled, slapping his dirty towel down on the counter and grabbing a clean one from the laundry basket shoved in the corner. He ran it under the tap before rushing over to Cindy’s side. “Cindy, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

“You two are gettin’ ridiculous, could hear you out from the dining room,” Cindy whined, giving Cor a look that was absolutely heart wrenching.

 

 

“I know, I know, I got upset,” Cor mumbled, wiping the front of her shirt and tutting over her. Prompto merely watched with wide eyes as Noctis leaned around the wall from the dish pit to watch.

“ _ Why is he so nice to her? _ ” Prompto whispered.

“ _ Well, first of all, have you seen her?”  _ Noctis replied with a wicked grin on his face. “Cindy’s like the nicest person here. Cor’s favorite server.”

“ _ Good point, _ ” Prompto whispered as he watched the debacle unfold. Cor continued wiping the front of Cindy’s apron, whispering sweet apologies, as Ignis rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the food that still needed to be prepared.

“Gladio, please, a hand?” he called.

Gladio gave him a look that was positively seething. “Dessert’s just as important as dinner.”

“Yes, Gladiolus, but you can’t have dessert without dinner,” Ignis said, “and that carrot cake looks divine. Please, help me, while our executive chef tuts over waitresses,” Ignis said scathingly.

Gladio rolled his eyes and sighed as he walked past Cor, who was still trying to help Cindy.

“Is my whole damn wait staff in here?” Clarus yelled in the kitchen.

“Newbie!” Cor barked. “Get your ass outta here and do your fuckin’ job!”

“Shit, you better stop watching the circus and get back to work,” Noctis sneered.

Prompto sighed before returning to the dining room, still reeling from the entire episode that unfolded before him. How that kitchen was still turning out such high-caliber food was beyond him; how anyone managed to deal with such an aggressive exec was even further past that. He rubbed the heels of his palms hard into his eyes and took a deep breath before returning to the dining room, only to discover that he was right and the eight o'clock rush had befallen them.

The blonde swore he’d stay out of the kitchen the rest of the night. Maybe they’d all be in a better mood tomorrow.

  
  
  
  


By some miracle they’d survived the dinner rush. Again. Gladio had no idea how their kitchen stayed functional with two chefs that got along as poorly as Cor and Ignis. Both of them liked to be in charge and believed their opinions were the correct one. Gladio believed their differences might be what drove a dagger deep into the heart of Insomnia.

After Cor and Ignis’ argument had ended abruptly with poor Cindy’s uniform as the sacrificial lamb of peace, the two had seemed to calm down- for awhile, at least. It didn’t stop Ignis’ cool demeanor towards Cor, or Cor’s seemingly diminished vocabulary directed towards his sous. What once was ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ was now a grunt or a huff. Ignis almost seemed to prefer it, though, and Gladio wasn’t about to push it. He just wanted to get out of there on time.

The kitchen was empty by the time Gladio was finished cleaning his disaster zone of a pastry bench. He supposed he’d deserved it for making carrot cake for dessert. Sugar caked the floor, no thanks to Noctis, and carrot shavings were everywhere. He reminded himself to finish the beers in the fridge tonight and make Noctis pick up more.

“Gladio,” Cor grunted as he unbuttoned his jacket. “Got plans?”

“Now I do,” Gladio said with a smirk.

Cor huffed, but the smile curling his lips was more than telling. “Come over tonight.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna have to make that a little more enticing, Leonis. It might be a booty call, but I like a little romance.”

Cor glared at him before rolling his eyes. Before Gladio could speak, Cor was around the pastry bench and pressing Gladio into the sparkling stovetop behind him. 

 

 

“Romance, huh?” Cor grumbled as he pressed his lips to Gladio’s neck.

“Mmmmhm,” Gladio hummed, setting his broad hands on Cor’s hips. The older man wasted no time as he pulled the bandana from Gladio’s hair and tossed it to the side. As his long, brown locks cascaded down around his shoulders, Cor grabbed a handful, pulling at it playfully to tilt Gladio’s head to the side.

“So you’re telling me,” Cor muttered as he kissed the tan column of Gladio’s neck, “that you  _ don’t _ want me to take you home with me and fuck you senseless.”

“Cor,” Gladio growled.

“You’d rather be  _ romanced _ ,” Cor teased before kissing Gladio hungrily. He groaned as he parted his lips, making way for Cor’s clever tongue. His hands found his way to the curve of Cor’s ass, gripping tightly, as the blonde rutted into his thigh. “Something tells me this is just the right amount of romance for you.”

Gladio’s fingertips sunk into the worn cotton of Cor’s pants as his partner’s hand made his way between his hips to palm his cock. Cor was relentless and eager as he stroked Gladio with his calloused palm through his pants, though it seemed he was enjoying it just as much as Gladio was. The man held onto Gladio tight with his other arm as he stroked him until Gladio was rock-hard against his hand.

“Yeah, just the right amount,” Cor breathed into his ear before sinking his teeth into Gladio’s neck.

“Let’s -ah- go to your apartment,” Gladio suggested, pressing his thigh into the bulge resting against his leg.

“Mm, can’t just have you here?” Cor asked.

Gladio chuckled. “Not tonight,” he mumbled. As much as he wanted to submit to his lover right here and let him have his way with him, too much had happened here tonight and Gladio needed to get away from it. “Not in the mood for fun in the kitchen.”

“Alright,” Cor said, pulling away from Gladio, only to smile at him devilishly. “Let’s go.”

  
  
  
  


This wasn’t the first time Gladio had been to Cor’s apartment. They almost always ended up here- it wasn’t like Gladio could just bring Cor back to his place, not when Noctis had moved in. He  _ definitely _ didn’t need grief from his father about ‘fraternizing’ or whatever other excuse Clarus would come up with. They were two consenting-  _ very consenting _ \- adults.

It was a fine arrangement, anyway. Gladio wasn’t looking for something emotional, and Cor wasn’t a man that conveyed a lot of emotion, unless it involved throwing frozen chicken quarters at Noct’s head. That he was very passionate about.

Gladio had too much going on for a relationship. He was still trying to make something of himself, to prove that patisserie wasn’t the wrong path; rather, the right one, the best choice he could make. He wanted his father to know that without a doubt, there was nothing else Gladio was born to do.

He and Cor were nothing more than friends with benefits. They both stood to gain something from impassioned trysts late at night after frustrating shifts. Gladio enjoyed relinquishing his control to someone else, letting them take over so his mind could white out and he could focus on nothing more than pleasure and play. 

Cor, of course, needed that control, he  _ needed _ to be sure that he was still in charge of something. They hadn’t started hooking up until Ignis joined the staff only a few weeks ago, but since then, their hookups had been frequent and fiery. Beyond feeding something deep within themselves, giving them more of what they needed, it was sex.

Great fucking sex.

They were hardly inside the apartment before Cor had pinned Gladio to the wall. The brunette could barely close the door; though Cor was smaller than he was, he was still  _ Cor:  _ bold, fiery, strong. These were just a few of the reasons Gladio was glad it was Cor he was hooking up with, beyond his chiseled good looks and voracious appetite. Cor ruled with the same iron fist in the bedroom as he did in the kitchen.

Cor hastily undid the buttons of Gladio’s workshirt before he tossed the garment to the side. He groaned at the sight of Gladio’s undershirt. “Too many fucking clothes,” he muttered, grabbing it and pulling it over Gladio’s head roughly.

“Gotta slow you down somehow,” Gladio chuckled.

“Little shit,” Cor swore, grinning at Gladio as he began to fumble with the buttons of his own shirt. “Take off your pants.”

Gladio made quick work of his belt as he watched Cor reveal himself button by button. The man’s lightly-tanned skin was a delicious sight; his chest was broad and muscled, dusted with dirty blonde curls to match the hair on his head. The man grinned at Gladio as he watched his visage darken.

“Like what you see?”

“Fuck yeah,” Gladio said with a grin. “You know you’re hot. Don’t play coy.”

Cor only laughed at him before grunting, “bed.”

Gladio made his way down the hall; by now, the layout of Cor’s apartment was familiar enough that he could find his way in the dark with only an occasional bump or scuffle. The blonde was hot on his heels with wandering hands that groped and squeezed at the bare skin of Gladio’s backside. He chuckled at Cor’s eagerness, to which his partner replied with a firm smack on his ass.

“Can’t you move faster?” Cor grumbled.

“Maybe if you’d turn a fucking light on,” Gladio laughed, but it was punctuated with a sharp inhale as Cor sunk his fingernails into Gladio’s right asscheek.

Gladio heard Cor’s hand collide with the wall and a tiny lamp on the nightstand flickered on, casting the minimally-decorated space in a warm light. Broad hands pushed him face-down onto the mattress and Cor settled on top of him with his cock resting in the curve of Gladio’s ass. He couldn’t help but groan as the older man frotted against his ass cheeks, dragging his thick cock forward and back against the skin, so close to his entrance. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn Cor was teasing him.

“Oh, you like this,” Cor rumbled. Gladio could feel him rut harder against him and arched his back, pushing his ass into the hot flesh of his lover’s erection. “Fuck,” Cor groaned. “Flip over.”

Gladio was happy to oblige and Cor rewarded him with a firm, lasting kiss, one that was equally hungry and passionate. He reached between them to close his fist around both of their lengths as Cor grinded against him, making the blonde throw his head back with pleasure. Gladio couldn’t help the wicked grin that grew on his face; he was finally catching on to all the little things that made Cor tick and watching the man who was usually so full of restraint, of discipline, come apart on top of him was a reward in and of itself.

“You top, or me?” Cor asked, his voice rough with lust.

“You,” Gladio answered. He kissed Cor again roughly, pressing his tongue against the seam of his mouth. Quick to oblige, Cor opened his mouth to tangle tongues with Gladio.

“Was hoping you’d say that,” Cor muttered, smirking at Gladio before leaning over to the nightstand. The brunette took the opportunity to grope and kiss Cor’s torso as he stretched over him, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it until it formed a stiff peak. He could feel Cor’s length twitch against him as he toyed with him.

Cor pushed Gladio’s legs up, bending them at the knee, urging Gladio to plant his feet firmly against the mattress to spread himself wide. The older man squeezed lube onto his fingers, watching with a salacious grin as the clear fluid dribbled onto his fingers. He rubbed them together to spread the viscous liquid and warm it, asking, “Ready?”

Gladio nodded and Cor crawled over him, balancing his weight on one forearm while he reached between the brunette’s legs with the other. The blonde was intent to watch his lover as he sunk a finger deep within him; Gladio couldn’t help but close his eyes and roll his lips between his teeth at the pressure.

Finding his way to Gladio’s neck, Cor mouthed at the sensitive juncture at his shoulder with lips and teeth as he fingered him. Once Gladio had relaxed, Cor slipped another finger inside. A subtle, pleasant burn emanated from between his thighs as he scissored and stretched him. Cor had never been particularly patient or slow with him, but was always thorough, and tonight was no exception. He seemed to enjoy himself, watching Gladio try to anticipate every curl and twitch of his eager fingers.

“Fuck, Cor, c’mon,” Gladio breathed, reaching up to pull Cor down into a heated kiss.

“You really want my cock, huh, Gladio?” Cor whispered deviously against his lips with a smile to match.

“You really want me to say it, huh?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I want you-” Gladio groaned as Cor slipped a third finger inside his entrance “-to fuck me. Hard.”

Cor laughed deep and heady as he kissed Gladio while slipping his fingers out. They quickly found their way to his cock, gripping it firmly as he rolled a condom over it and guided it between Gladio’s cheeks. A sharp inhale punctuated the silence of the room as he nudged inside him, the hot, rigid muscle pressing into Gladio’s tight, warm entrance.

The sheer length of him and his girth filled Gladio’s heat with wonderful pressure. A subtle moan slipped from his lips as Cor bore down on him, clutching his hips so as to better pull his body closer and drive himself deep within. Gladio closed his eyes as he laid his head back on the mattress, savoring every little rush of pleasure he got as Cor drove into his prostate.

It was so easy, so incredibly easy to let his mind slip and wander off when they got like this. He didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to  _ think _ ; all Gladio really had to do was focus on the pleasure and let his hands wander. Over Cor’s shoulders, down his sides, between his hips, Gladio’s muscled, strong fingers found their way to his own cock and pumped it in time with his lover’s thrusts, chasing his own release.

“Close,” Cor groaned, his fingers digging deeper into Gladio’s thighs as he lifted his hips into his pelvis, driving his cock even deeper into the brunette’s core. “Come for me, Gladio.”

A strangled moan escaped him as he pumped harder, as Cor thrust into him with enthusiasm, until he could feel that spring in his gut compressing so much that there wasn’t any way he could stop it. Gladio spilled his release over his abdomen with a gasp and a heavy breath, trembling as Cor fucked him through his orgasm.

His head dropping back on his shoulders, Cor’s rhythm stuttered as he buried himself deep within Gladio and stayed there. The brunette could feel the warmth of Cor’s spend trickling into him, making his softening cock twitch and his heat tighten. Chuckling, Cor thrust into him once more. “Fuck, Gladio, that was good,” He groaned, pulling out and disposing of the condom.

Gladio smirked as he folded his arms behind his head. “Yeah, it was. Towel?”

“Right,” Cor said, standing up and walking out of the room. “Beer?” he called from the hallway.

“Not tonight,” Gladio yelled. He looked down at the spend pooling in his abs- he really wanted to get this cleaned up, get out of here, and get home before Noct got suspicious. However, there was beer to be drank- at  _ home, _ not here, he told himself.

Gladio didn’t like to stay the night. Something about it screamed relationship and though they clearly stated it was just a casual thing, he knew himself better. He knew that if he stayed the night, he’d start  _ feeling  _ things and he just didn’t have time for that. When Cor returned with a damp towel and two beers clutched between his fingers, Gladio gave him a small smile before taking the towel and cleaning himself up.

“Not gonna stay?” Cor grunted as Gladio stood up and searched the hallways for his errant clothes.

“Nah. Gotta make bread tomorrow. We’re running out,” Gladio replied as he pulled his pants on.

“Could make it interesting. I’m always up for round two,” Cor said with an impish grin.

Gladio smiled back at him. “Sorry, see you tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

Gladio was still buttoning most of the buttons on his work shirt as he made his way down the stairs. Cor had asked him to stay, and Cor  _ never _ asked him to stay. That alone made Gladio uncomfortable. He didn’t need this to get complicated- the rest of his life was complicated enough as it is.

With a sigh, Gladio pulled his collar of his jacket up, defending the tender skin of his neck from the chilly desert wind, and walked home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Sorry for the delay!! Poor Jill is so nice and waited so patiently while I finished finals and had a hellish holiday season -_- hope you're all doing great!!!

Prompto knocked on Noctis’ apartment door, yawning widely with a Redbull in hand. It had been a long first night at the restaurant; the rollercoaster ride that he’d been unknowingly strapped into had been full of twists and turns. He knew that things would be difficult with Cor; Regis and Clarus had made sure to warn him of that. He had expected the grizzled, veteran executive chef to be rooted in his old ways like an ancient tree.

What he  _ hadn’t  _ expected was the pure chaos that seemed to consume the kitchen come dinner rush. He hadn’t expected entrees to be wielded like weapons, for chefs to be yelling at each other so loud the dining room could hear it, for even the wait staff to get sucked into the heated mess. For someone who had an outstanding reputation as a chef whose eyes said more than words ever did, Cor Leonis’ words scathed like boiling water.

The disaster of a kitchen created a swirling, dark cloud of anxiety looming in Prompto’s brain. This could possibly be the  _ worst kitchen _ he had ever waited tables for, no matter the fact that the man he’d been ogling for years worked the pastry bench or that his best friend would be there to quietly devour the fresh hell Prompto had been thrust into like a man who’d seen food after starving on an island for six days.

His rent needed to get paid, though, and food needed to be put on the table. Insomnia would have to do for now, no matter the verbal abuse he suffered under Cor. Moving back home was  _ not  _ an option. He’d already made it four years on his own... returning to the nest would be admitting utter defeat.

Prompto sighed and knocked on the door again. It was so like Noctis to be late, even for answering the door. He was lucky Prompto loved him despite his gremlin-like behavior.

“Hey!” Noct said, the door cracking open just wide enough for Prompto to push his body through the slot.

“Uh, hi,” Prompto said awkwardly as Noctis pushed the door closed behind him. “What’s going on- oh.”

A massive dog was drooling on the old, plaid couch in the living room. Its long, gangly legs dangled off the cushions and big, floppy ears lay draped across a pillow. The creature was monstrous; it had to weigh at least a hundred pounds, and Prompto knew he was underestimating that number.

“Uh. Dude. Is that a Great Dane?” Prompto said, sitting on the floor as the dog had occupied the majority of the couch.

“Huh?” Noctis said absentmindedly as he pored over some paperwork he had out on his kitchen counter.

“Dog. What is it doing here.” Prompto said curtly, pointing at the snoring monster.

“Oh. That’s Tiny.”

“What’s the word… oxymoron?” Prompto asked, crawling across the floor to sit beside the couch. The dog snorted and opened its eyes to see Prompto holding his hand out, offering an introductory sniff. Almost immediately, the dog’s long, thin tail started slapping against the couch cushions. “Oh, he’s kinda cute.”

“Right? They didn’t have enough space for him at the shelter so I kind of brought him here.”

“Didn’t Gladio say no pets? He’s like allergic or something,” Prompto said as he scratched Tiny’s ear and laughed as the dog’s leg kicked out in reflex. “Good spot, huh buddy?”

“Yeah, but he’s supposed to be getting adopted this afternoon. He’ll only be here while Gladio’s gone,” Noctis said. The sound of his pen scratching against the paper filled the empty space of the apartment. It was so unlike Noctis to focus so much attention on something like paperwork; a video game or a television show was more likely. Since he’d started volunteering, though, Noctis had suddenly found passion Prompto had never seen before. Watching his best friend grow up a little bit from the mildly-insolent manchild he had been for years was pacifying.

“You’re not gonna tell him, right?” Noctis said, finally glancing up from his paperwork to look at Prompto.

“You gonna make it interesting? Sweeten the pot?” Prompto said, waggling his eyebrows. The giant dog slipped off the sofa to go slurp water from the mixing bowl Noctis had left for him on the floor. Prompto took his spot, sighing as the lingering body heat in the cushions soaked into his sore back.

“Uh…” Noct mumbled, his attention back on his document.

“Give me rides to work for a month,” Prompto said cheekily.

“Sure… wait, what?”

“Too late! You said yes!” Prompto jeered. Noctis rolled his eyes and sighed. “Where is Gladio, anyway?”

“Lunch with the dads,” Noct said absentmindedly. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” Prompto said all-too-innocently, watching the dog as it paced the room. “Was just curious, is all.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Prom,” Noctis said. “I’ve seen how googly-eyed you get over my brother.”

“He’s just nice to look at. That’s all it is.”

Noctis glanced over at him, glaring, as Prompto scratched behind Tiny’s ears. The blonde looked anywhere but at his friend, for he knew the scathing look he would find in those cerulean irises all too well. Prompto had never, ever spoken to Noctis about his feelings for Gladio, and as far as he was concerned, he never would.

“Prompto.”

“What?”

“Admit it.”

“That I love this dog? Yes!” Prompto said brightly as he pressed a kiss to Tiny’s big, wet nose. The massive animal took it as an opportunity to crawl onto the couch next to him. Prompto wrapped his arms around the dog’s torso and rubbed his face into its soft fur.

“Stop loving Tiny and look at me,” Noct said forcefully.

“Never,” Prompto squeaked.

The Dane moved from the seat besides Prompto to his lap. It weighed easily 200 pounds, way more than he weighed, and he could feel the air sink from his body as the dog settled on top of him.

“Noctis,” he croaked. “Help, Tiny is crushing me.”

 

 

Tiny huffed loudly at Noctis, who abandoned his paperwork in favor of petting the dog and giving him praise.

“Say it,” Noctis said. “Say you like my brother.”

“ _ Of course I like him, he’s a nice guy- _ ” Prompto wheezed.

“Tiny, good boy!” Noctis said, encouraging the dog to lie flat against Prompto’s chest. Any hope of retaining the air in his lungs was long gone. “Say it, Prom. Say you like him.”

Prompto coughed.

Tiny began to wriggle as Noctis tickled his sides.

“ _ Okay, okay, okay, Gladio’s really, really, really hot, okay- _ ”

“Gross, Prom,” Noct said, throwing a pillow at his best friend, as Tiny leapt from his lap, using his gut as a springboard. “Why would you sexualize Gladio like that?? He’s a human, y’know.”

“He’s funny too-” Prom wheezed as he clutched his stomach and rolled over on his side. “I think I’m gonna throw up my Redbull.”

Noct sat on the floor, looking at Prompto with a sullen expression. “Dude. How long have you been … y’know…”

“Can you not say it? Dude! You’re like twenty two,” Prompto teased.

Glaring at him with narrowed eyes, Noct sighed. “We’re best friends. You’re supposed to tell me shit like this.”

“What! ‘Oh, Noct, I definitely jerk it while thinking of your hot, muscular brother’-”

“ _ Disgusting!” _ Noctis howled, throwing the other pillow on the floor at Prompto’s face.

“You asked. Now you know. Just don’t tell him, okay?” Prompto whined.

“You’ve already earned the shittiest best friend trophy today for not telling me. I’m not gonna take that honor away from you.”

“Thank you.”

“Now take three weeks off my sentence or I’m calling Gladio right now.”

“Noct!”

  
  
  
  


Gladio’s kitchen was kind of a disaster. It was cramped, small, with no island, and the oven seemed to have a mind of its own. Unless he was making something simple, like chocolate chip cookies or a layer cake, he simply couldn’t bake there. Noct seemed to destroy it every night anyway, no matter how hard Gladio tried to keep it clean. That’s what he got for living with his brother in a tiny apartment downtown, he supposed.

His parents’ kitchen was a different story. They lived in a beautiful townhouse in downtown Manhattan. Floor-to-ceiling windows adorned the entire north wall of the apartment’s spacious combined living room and kitchen. All black marble, the polished, shining countertop glittered with specks of gold and copper beneath the glass cutting board that rested atop it. All of the appliances were new; Regis hated outdated cookware. Smartphone interactive and controlled, the fridge could list the news and the oven preheated itself before Gladio even looked at it.

That kitchen was a dream. Someday, Gladio told himself, someday he’d have something like this. Maybe a double oven. A fridge with a chilling drawer just for pastry. And an espresso machine. And someone to share it with.

Maybe.

Gladio hummed quietly to the classic rock pumping through the radio bracketed to the bottom of the black kitchen cabinet. It was satellite- Clarus hated ads- and such a treat. He thought maybe someday he’d get there. For now, he decided to enjoy it.

The large drawer in the island slid open with a gentle pull, revealing odd baking tools, paper cups for cupcakes, measuring tools, and parchment paper, all carefully organized just the way Gladio left it. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he took out two piping bags and left them on the counter. Yes, this drawer was safe from his gremlin of a brother, thank God.

“No one’s touched it, Gladio,” Regis said over his son’s shoulder as he made his way to the coffeemaker. “Not even Clarus, and trust me, he wants to.”

“Thanks, Reggie,” Gladio said with a smile.

“What are you making for us today?”

“Tulles. Cigar-rolled and dipped in chocolate.”

Regis sighs and rolls his eyes back in his head. “Divine.”

“You like these,” Gladio said, his eyes sparkling as he piped circles of vanilla and chocolate onto a sheet of parchment paper.

“Love them, Gladio. Thank you.”

 

 

The brunette smiled as he finished piping the mousse out into careful concentric circles. After they baked, he would curl them around the handle of a wooden spoon and dip them in baking chocolate. They were a little silly, maybe, but they were Regis’ favorite, and Gladio enjoyed baking for his father. It was nice to bake for someone who appreciated not only the finished product, but the process, the work that went into it.

It brought so much joy to an otherwise quiet, focused practice. Baking was like breathing to him. Gladio needed it; there was so much peace and tranquility in the art that he craved, that was lacking everywhere else in his life. There was such satisfaction in creating beautiful things that brought so much happiness.

“The mousse won’t spread out?” Regis asked curiously as Gladio popped them into the oven.

“Nah,” Gladio said quietly, as he focused his attention on the chunks of chocolate he poured into a glass bowl before setting it over a boiling pot of water. He stirred aggressively as he watched it melt into a tantalizing puddle. “All the air that’s trapped in there kind of keeps them fluffy enough. They cook like a pancake.”

“I like pancakes. Makes sense that I should like these, too.”

“You like  _ everything _ , Reggie.”

“My boy, if I liked everything, we would be running a McDonald’s, not a Michelin star restaurant.”

“True,” Gladio chuckled. 

“McDonald’s?” Clarus yelled from across the house.

“Don’t get your hopes up, Clar,” Regis said chidingly, crossing a leg over the other as he perched on his barstool, sipping his coffee. “You’ll find no camaraderie for your traitorous deeds in this house anymore.”

“Gladiolus had to steal my Mickey D’s buddy,” Clarus grumbled teasingly as he walked into the kitchen. His skin was shimmering with sweat and his face flushed as he took his headphones from around his neck and hung them on a rack near the back door.

“How was your run, Clar?”

“The sun was sizzling this morning and it’s humid as hell,” Clarus said with a sigh as he took a towel that hung from the oven door and wiped his face and neck, earning himself a disapproving look from his partner. “What?? I’m sweaty.”

“That’s what  _ showers _ are for, not the hand-embroidered towels I picked up in France last summer,” Regis said pointedly.

“Whatever will I do to earn your forgiveness,” Clarus sighed, sidling up to Regis before pulling him into a sweeping kiss.

“Still sweaty,” Regis complained against his lover’s lips, though his own were curled into a smile.

“Don’t care,” Clarus replied in a mimicking tone.

“This is why I moved out,” Gladio sighed, turning away from them to retrieve his cookies from the oven. “Reggie, gimme a hand before they cool?”

“I’ve got you, flower child,” Regis sighed before pulling out of Clarus’ arms and rushing to Gladio’s side.

“That name stopped being cool like… It was never cool,” Gladio whined.

“It’s more for you than for me,” Reggie smiled, bumping his hip against Gladio’s.

He watched Gladio curl a warm cookie around the handle of a wooden spoon before retrieving his own to help him with the rest. As the two worked quietly, save for the crooning crackle of the radio, Clarus retreated to the bedroom to shower.

“Is everything alright at the restaurant?” Regis asked quietly; the marble-ensconced kitchen was an acoustic nightmare that broadcasted sound through the entire house.

Gladio shrugged. “Cor and Ignis aren’t getting along any better.”

“And the front of house?”

“I think Prompto’s kind of getting the hang of things. Maybe. I dunno, it’s only been one night, but Cindy seems happier to have an extra pair of hands.”

“Good, good.” Regis’ voice sounded distant, but Gladio saw that his eyes were miles away, fixated on some point in space.

Gladio murmured in affirmation as he dipped cookies in chocolate and left them on the cooling rack.

“Do you need anything? I know… I know talking to your father about it is hard. But I can get you what you need,” Reggie said, setting a hand on Gladio’s bicep and giving it a little squeeze. “I know you wanted to change the dessert menu. Make new things.”

“Yeah, I was thinking, since Cor’s taking on the traditional with the new menu that I could try some traditionals with a twist. “I wanna try schichttorte, but pops says the vanilla bean is too expensive.”

“He doesn’t balance the checkbook,” Reggie said, quirking an eyebrow. “He also didn’t tell me you wanted to change the dessert menu.”

Gladio shrugged. “I didn’t exactly tell him.”

“Is that so.”

The look with which Regis examined him made Gladio’s skin tingle uncomfortably. It was a look he knew well, for he’d always been sequestered, quiet, preferring to keep his feelings to himself. Where Regis wore his heart on his sleeve for all to see, and Gladio loved that about his father - he never had to wonder how he was feeling - it was something that was, at times, a minor hedge between them.

“Gladio…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. It’s fine. I’ll just keep making the same dishes over and over again,” Gladio sighed, aggressively rolling a tulle around the spoon and cracking it. “Fuck.”

“You  _ will  _ if you don’t talk to him.”

“Talk to who?” Clarus asked inquisitively as he entered the kitchen. His silver hair glistened with the water that still clung to it. Clarus had gone grey early, a look Regis had never grown tired of, to the older man’s dismay.

“Noctis,” Gladio interjected. “Won’t do the dishes.”

Clarus laughed as he clapped Gladio on the shoulder. “What’d you expect, Gladiolus? Your brother is childish, you know that.”

Regis looked at Gladio pointedly as he curled a cookie around a spoon. The brunette shook his head, mouthed ‘ _ not now’ _ , and returned his attention to the task at hand. Gladio didn’t want lunch to turn into some kind of a debate about menus or a discussion on the problems he and Clarus had been simmering on the backburner for years now. He just wanted to enjoy a simple lunch with his fathers, laugh at their antics, and then return to the restaurant for a long shift.

He didn’t normally miss that place, but he did right now. Gladio longed for the kitchen, for a hot oven, for busy hands that didn’t have time to think about prejudices or expectations. In that moment, he decided he’d stay late tonight and bake that schichttorte. The luxury grocery store down the street from his fathers’ apartment would have fresh vanilla. He needed the comfort.

“So Clarus, about the dessert menu…”

Goddamn it.

  
  
  
  


It was midnight when Prompto finally locked the front doors and dimmed the lights in the dining room. He set his forehead against the glass pane,  _ Insomnia _ etched into the other side, and sighed. Cindy had already left and so had Iris, leaving Prompto to close the front end. That was fine, he could use the time to be alone anyway.

The iridescent canopy of the dining room’s column still shone brilliantly overhead, casting the room and everything in it in multicolor hues. Prompto took a moment to watch the lights fade from green to purple to pink, dancing in the candle votives and in the wine glasses. The wine bottles in the shelves surrounding the dining space reflected the light beautifully. This place was as gorgeous as it was hellish.

Checking every table, he found what needed to be refilled: salt shakers, pepper grinders, empty ramekins for sugar and splenda. He rounded up the empties and lows and set them on the bar to worry about later. Refilling the exotic-looking salt shakers looked like a task that was going to be messy and he wasn’t in the mood for that yet.

Prompto sighed as he looked at the messy tables. Noctis was surely working on the plethora of dishes made by the kitchen that evening and wouldn’t have time to come out and collect the leftover plates and glasses. He could remember when he’d only been a busser, and a dishwasher before that. He had a lot of respect for the people who had to get down and dirty to make sure the restaurant still ran smoothly.

Before taking the busser bin full of dishes to the back, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. The phone screen lit up with an idiotic selfie of Prompto and an old friend from Coctura’s; seeing Aranea’s salty smile always made him laugh. There were no notifications, though. Pursing his lips, Prompto scrolled through his conversations and clicked on  _ mom. _ Nothing. He’d texted her three days ago and there was still no response.

The fact that it no longer surprised him created a little bubble of remorse in his belly.

“Hey, Noct, got some more for ya, I know how much you  _ love _ dishes,” Prompto called as he strolled through the swinging doors into the kitchen. He was answered by silence. Rounding the corner as he made his way to the dish pit, he found Noctis with a large pair of headphones over his ears as he worked on a monstrous pile of pots and pans from the kitchen. As Prompto approached, he flipped his sudsy middle finger up.

“Hey, don’t blame me, blame the old lady at my table who wanted a separate plate for every part of her meal,” Prompto said, dumping the dishes unceremoniously onto the table. “And the guy who wanted to taste like eight different wines.”

“Not listening!” Noctis yelled over his music. Prompto could hear the din of heavy bassline and complex percussion of metal music. The blonde waved him off before making his way into the kitchen. There was probably a storage room with salt and pepper  _ somewhere, _ and sugar packets, too.

Gladio was busy at his bench with a bowl of batter and a cake pan. Prompto watched as he poured a dollop of batter into the pan before picking it up and rolling it around. “What are you doing?” he asked with fascination.

“Making cake,” Gladio grunted.

“Oh shit, what kind of cake?”

“Schichttorte.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s cake,” Gladio answered brusquely, raising an eyebrow and looking up at Prompto before dropping his eyes back down to the cake pan as he spread the batter evenly across its bottom.

Prompto tried to mask his frown- he didn’t think he was asking hard questions- as he tried once more to engage the baker. “Midnight snack, huh?”

Gladio stared at the ceiling and drew a deep breath in before refocusing on the task at hand.

“Oookay, then,” Prompto said quietly under his breath. Rather than continue to search for the salt and pepper, he decided to forgo his efforts. New York City and its inevitable tizzy of sound was calling his name. Like a blanket, the city’s white noise was comfortable and enveloped him in a sense of calm. He made a beeline for the back door and headed into the alleyway.

The noise assaulted him as soon as he opened the door. A nearby steam grate shrieked with the rush of vapor streaming out of it. Traffic was endless, too; the roar of engines, the impatient drivers honking their horns, the squeal of old brakes filled his ears. Somewhere above him, someone had a window open and was playing the piano. A dog barked in the distance. All of these sounds meshed and mingled in wonderful ways that deafened the worry shrieking in his brain.

As much as he didn’t want to worry about it, the fact that he’d received radio silence from his parents spoke volumes. He’d called to tell them about the new job, that he was working in a world-famous restaurant with chefs that were in magazines and for a family that he not only loved, but was prominent in the industry. Prompto had finally landed a job he could stay at for  _ years _ and be happy doing.

They didn’t seem to care, though, or maybe they didn’t want to. Their constant disappointment in his choice to be a career server always cast a shadow in the bright spot. He was so happy waiting tables, serving people, absorbing the chaos of restaurant life, but they would have chosen differently. It was unfortunate to say the least.

Then there was this place. It certainly wasn’t at all what he was expecting. Order, serenity, skill, and tradition were all outshined by hapless chaos, sour chefs, and a kitchen that was one step away from being on a reality television show. It was a nightmare. The resentment that was building in his gut for not being told about what a terror this place truly was wasn’t helping his case.

Prompto sighed as he sat on the overturned crate just outside the door. A pack of cigarettes sat next to the ashtray. Its red and white box was like a siren song and Prompto’s fingers twitched as he looked at it. He was trying  _ so hard _ to quit. It had only been three weeks, though... it would be so easy to just start over again.

As he opened the pack, to his delight and dismay he found one last cigarette in it. The lucky one, of course, was turned upside in the box and to be saved for last. With gently trembling fingers- the product of a long relationship with nicotine having come to an abrupt end- he extracted the cigarette from the box and held it beneath his nose. Long eyelashes fluttered over violet eyes as he inhaled the sickly sweet aroma of the tobacco.

God, it was so tempting. It was just  _ one cigarette _ , he told himself. Then again, he knew it would only take one. But would one really be so bad? He even had a lighter. It was just habit to keep the little plastic piece of crap BIC in his pocket. He took it out and struck the flame a few times before holding the end of the cigarette to his lips.

Before he could draw that sweet, slow death into his lungs, the back door swung open.

“Prom, you got a sec- oh, sorry,” Gladio said. “Didn’t know you were taking a break.”

“I wasn’t…. Wasn’t supposed to, anyway,” Prompto said, holding the cigarette out of Gladio’s view. The smoke must have betrayed him, for Gladio gave him a knowing look.

“Weren’t you quitting?”

“H-how’d you know!?”

“Noct. He told me,” Gladio said. “Listen, I’ve got something way better than cigarettes in the kitchen if you wanna come try it.”

Prompto looked down at the cigarette before looking up at Gladio.

“Seriously. I’m sorry for being a dick before. Just having a rough day. C’mon.”

Gladio didn’t even give Prompto the opportunity to turn him down before turning around and heading back into the kitchen. Prompto left the burning cigarette in the ashtray before hurrying inside after Gladio. He wasn’t about to deny himself sweets and he still hadn’t had the opportunity to try Gladio’s cooking. Whatever it was, it smelled  _ heavenly _ . There was still a jar of jam and half a lemon sitting on the counter beside the unfinished confectionary.

“Grab a stool from the bar. Maybe some beers.” Gladio said as he poured a chocolate glaze over the top of his cake. Prompto nodded before going back into the dining room, grabbing a barstool and two Heinekens from the fridge at the bar. They weren’t on the menu and Prompto could only assume they were for staff. He hustled back into the kitchen.

“Good, you didn’t grab the craft. Pops always gets mad when we drink the craft beer,” Gladio chuckled.

“What are you making? Looks like a cake.”

“It is…” Gladio began, pausing as he carefully drizzled white frosting over the top of the chocolate glaze. “A schichttorte. A german cake, essentially.”

“Can you say that again?”

“Schich-ttorte,” Gladio laughed. He opened a small refrigerator under his pastry bench and put the cake inside. “Give it like, twenty for the glaze to set, and then you can try it.”

Prompto nodded before slurping his beer. The two chatted idly while waiting for the cake to set; Prompto found himself a little too happy to be talking about the rapidly approaching autumn weather. It was Gladio, and he knew it. Prompto never got to spend time with him, and especially not like  _ this _ \- just the two of them, no Noctis.

“It’s ready,” Gladio said in a rush as his phone chirped at him. The cake’s chocolate glaze had set beautifully; the entire top shined with a spotless, glossy finish. Just the sight of the chocolate topping alone made Prompto drool.

“It’s gorgeous. Are you sure we can have some? It’s not for customers or something?” Prompto asked worriedly.

Gladio shook his head. “Dad really wanted me to make one before he decided we could put it on the menu.”

“Clarus?”

Pursing his lips, Gladio answered, “No. Regis. I’m supposed to bring him some but he won’t want the whole thing. That’s where you and I come in.”

“Awesome,” Prompto whispered excitedly. Gladio cut the both of them a generous piece, revealing many tiny pancake-like layers of cake inside. Holding up his plate to peer at them, Prompto counted exactly twenty layers. “I’ve never eaten a twenty-layer cake before.”

“It ain’t a schichttorte if it doesn’t have twenty layers,” Gladio chuckled. “Eat it. C’mon. I wanna know what you think.”

Prompto tentatively poked at the cake with his fork. He didn’t know where to start. He wasn’t the kind of person who ate things like  _ this _ , things like beautiful decadent desserts made with love and pride. He was lucky if he found Choco-Tacos at the 7-11 down the street.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! I just… I normally get like, hostess cupcakes and gas station donuts, okay? This is really fancy.” Prompto said.

Gladio roared with laughter. “Then eat it like you would one of those. It doesn’t have to be eaten with grace or dignity. Just fuckin’ eat it, Prompto.”

Prompto cut a big chunk out with his fork and rubbed it in the extra ganache that had smeared on his plate before putting it in his mouth. The apricot flavor was sweet and tangy, delicately followed by the chocolate in the glaze. And the  _ cake _ . Dear god, if that was the last thing Prompto ate, he’d die happy. His eyes rolled back in his head as he savored it, letting a raspy little moan escape his throat.

“So it’s good,” Gladio said with a grin.

Prompto rolled his eyes. “It’s fucking amazing, dude.”

His cheeks were stuffed full of cake as he looked up at Gladio. The man was smiling brightly, making his amber eyes sparkle and the long, thin scar over his left eye stretch on his lips. It was an honest smile, an eager smile, and it was beautiful. Prompto didn’t think that he’d ever seen Gladio smile like that.

 

 

A thought flashed in his mind and he opened his mouth before even thinking.

“What are you doing, baking in the middle of the night? At work? Don’t you wanna go home?”

The smile faded as quickly as it appeared and Prompto wanted to kick himself.

“Eh, just a long day,” Gladio said, finding a smudge of chocolate on the polished black marble top of his bench to wipe at with a dishrag. “Feels good to make somethin’ pretty when the world spends its day shitting on you.”

“Sounds nice,” Prompto said quietly. “Sorry you had it rough today, dude.”

Gladio shrugged. “Shit happens. Tomorrow’s a new day.”

He knew that the words weren’t meant for him, but still, hearing them helped. Maybe his mother would call back tomorrow. Maybe this place would be easier tomorrow. Prompto couldn’t help but smile. “You need help cleaning up?”

“Nah, I did what few dishes I made.” Gladio drummed his fingers against the marble as the two shared a comfortable silence, eating their cake and sipping beers. Normally, the anxiousness constantly simmering in his guts urged him to speak if only to silence it, but this was alright. Gladio was just as content to stay quiet as Prompto was.

“You need a ride home?” Gladio asked as he snapped the lid on his cake container.

“Huh?” Prompto asked, stunned. Gladio had seemed so irritated to give him a ride to work the day before.

“You. Ride. In car.” Gladio said, miming each word. “Home. Where you live.”

Prompto nodded quickly, trying to fight the blush that was rising in his cheeks.

Gladio laughed at him. “Well, alright then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by!! Leave a comment or a kudos if you liked it :D we love hearing from readers.

**Author's Note:**

> [jilldrawblog](https://jilldrawblog.tumblr.com/) and I are so excited to share our restaurant AU with you! We really hope you enjoyed it. Comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscribes feed our souls and we appreciate every single one of them. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Come scream at us on tumblr!!  
> [jilldrawblog (the illustrator)](https://jilldrawblog.tumblr.com/)  
> [littlecakes (the author)](https://tinyconfectionary.tumblr.com/)


End file.
